Stenson ran down the stone corridor, trying another door. “Locked.”
He could hear the commotion upstairs and prayed Ivan and Fox were keeping Mr. What's-his-name occupied. Stenson grabbed the handle of the next door and hoped it would turn.
It did.
Inside the paisley room filled with numerous cages of varying sizes sat an old, oddly shaped desk with the legs of a deer. With Autumn Rose still clutched to his chest, he searched for ink or anything she could use. They had tried using dirt, but the ground was too muddy.
A small black bottle stood on the very edge of the table, with a blank piece of parchment next to it. Stenson placed Autumn Rose on the desk and carefully painted her paws with the murky liquid. Once he was finished, Autumn Rose scrambled around the page. Stenson squinted at the scratchy writing, trying to decipher it.
“B-U-M-R-I-I-L-S-T-R-I-N?”
Autumn Rose twitched her nose and squeaked. She scrambled across the parchment in a different spot, trying to write the name again.
Stenson's brow furrowed in deep concentration. “R-U-M-R-I-I-L-S-T-I-L-K-I-N?”
Autumn Rose paced back and forth under the word, squeaking.
“R-U-M-R-... is that an R or a P?” Autumn Rose nudged his hand. “I don't know. I can't read that one either,” he said and pointed to a letter that could have been an I or an L.
Shouts and the sound of objects crashing thundered from above. “We're running out of time!” Stenson pulled at his hair, desperately thinking of what this word could be.
Autumn Rose scampered over to the ink bottle, knocked it over, and dunked her tiny pink nose in the liquid. She went back to the parchment, darkening, and clarifying the correct letters.
The name jumped off the page. “Rumplestiltskin!”
Stenson waited for Autumn Rose to nod and when she did, he patted her soft little body.
“Stay here,” he said, and Autumn Rose twitched her nose. “I'll be back for you.”
Stenson flew down the hallway and up the stairs to where Ivan and Fox were causing a distraction. He entered the room of flying boxes and white feathers which came from a swan squawking in the corner.
A sheen of sweat beaded Fox's brow and Ivan was nowhere in sight. Stenson's father stood in the center, cackling, holding a strange metal gun in his hand.
“Stop!” Stenson yelled.
His father turned to him. “Well, now this is interesting.” He glided to where Stenson stood.
Stenson held his breath, eyeing the small device his father held, terrified and awed. Here was the man he'd been curious about all his life. He could ask his father all the questions that haunted his dreams. Instead, he only asked one.
“Will you, please, release Autumn Rose?”
His father tapped a long finger against his stubby chin. “No, I think not.”
Stenson's shoulders sank.
“In fact,” his father continued. “I think I shall add you to my collection. Oh, I'll turn you both into turtledoves. I have the perfect cage!”
“Get back!” Fox rushed toward Stenson, pushing him out of the way as his father pointed the metal gun at them. A beam of pale blue light blasted forth. She landed on top of Stenson, shielding him from the blow. Her face cringed in pain.
“Fox!” Stenson pulled her to a sitting position. “Are you okay?”
Fox winced and then, POOF, a peacock strutted in her place. Stenson flinched in horror. His father grumbled and turned a dial on the gun, then pointed it at Stenson.
Stenson closed his eyes and screamed, “RUMPLESTILTSKIN!”
The room shook with a thunderous roar, shaking and knocking all the strange objects onto the floor. Rumplestiltskin writhed in the center.
“No,” he screamed, “no one knows my name ... “
The cry ended with a pop and he vanished.
To Stenson's right, the swan morphed into Ivan, and to his left, the peacock turned into Fox.
“Autumn Rose!” Stenson charged out the door, down the stairs, and into the room he had left his beloved.
There on the desk covered in ink sat Autumn Rose.
Her lips curved down as she examined her dirty hands.
“Oh, foo, foo,” she said and Stenson ran over to kiss away all the black ink off of her nose and lips.